


When the Door Closes, Your Friends can Break it Down

by Right_hand_boi



Category: Transplant (TV 2020)
Genre: Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, i'm sorry mags, it's time for mags to shine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24030652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Right_hand_boi/pseuds/Right_hand_boi
Summary: Bashir and Theo are there to support Mags after her car is taken away.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 11





	When the Door Closes, Your Friends can Break it Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hc_for_me](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hc_for_me/gifts).



> I’m going to pretend that Theo did not get punched, and Amira did not go to their old place. I’m also going to pretend that all three doctors got off at the same time and that they just worked a night shift.
> 
> Mustache pics from: https://images.app.goo.gl/ohRYxQ17PBu9QZ8J7

Mags has had one crazy day. First her car, Lenny, broke down, then Dr. Bishop was harping her all day. She is beyond grateful when her shift ends. She’s changing into her day clothes when her keys fall out of a pocket. Mags runs her thumb over the cool, worn metal and tears spring to her eyes.

Her heart stutters, a quiet reminder that her pacemaker needs to be changed soon.

Perhaps it’s time to change her car, too.

Mags dials the nearest towing company before she can chicken out, telling them where to pick Lenny up. _At least Lenny broke down near the hospital,_ she thinks glumly. She digs in her wallet, finding an old bus ticket. _And at least, I’ll be able to get home after._ She puts the ticket in her pocket and leaves, completely forgetting that she was supposed to see Dr. Bishop.

When she arrives at the location, the towman is already there. He glances her way. “Magalie Leblanc?”

“That’s me,” she answers, clearing her throat. “I forgot a few things in L- in the car, do you mind? I’ll be just a second.”

He nods and steps back, pulling out his phone and typing into it.

Mags opens the driver’s car and sits down. She rests her forehead on Lenny’s steering wheel, pretending that she’s picking something up. His familiar scent threatens to send her into a crying fit. Pulling a pen and a pad of sticky notes out of her go-bag, Mags carefully writes her final goodbyes and sticks the paper on Lenny’s steering wheel. She rests her head on the note and toots his horn one last time.

“Thank you, Lenny,” she murmurs. After kissing his wheel, Mags opens the door and steps out. Ignoring the odd look from the towman, she hands him a wad of bills. “Keep the change. And take care of my car.”

“Yes ma’am,” he responds, counting and pocketing the money and hopping in his truck. The truck starts and slowly moves forward, hitting a pothole. Lenny’s left front hubcap falls to the asphalt with a clang. The truck continues. Mags quickly scoops up the hubcap, tears finally falling.

“Good-bye, Lenny. I love you,” she whispers shakily. The truck hits another pothole. Lenny’s horn honks.

_Good-bye Mags. I love you, too,_ he seems to whisper back. His taillights flash in the sun, waving to her. And then he’s gone.

With legs like Jell-O, Mags plops down on the curb, shaking with the force of her sobs. Tear stream down her face, creating a small puddle on Lenny’s hubcap. She’s pretty sure that she looks crazy, crying over a car, but she doesn’t care. Her chest shudders with each quaking breath. Tears quickly soak through her shirt, leaving Mags cold and uncomfortable. Still, she can't will herself to stand.

People walk by her, some asking if she’s alright. Each time, she explains that she’s had a hard day and just needs a good cry. They usually leave soon after, some patting her shoulder, others giving her a hug. She tearfully thanks them as they leave.

Mags struggles to control her tears and eventually reaches some semblance of calm. She’s staring at the hubcap on her knees when a shadow falls over her head. She pays it no heed.

“Mags,” a quiet voice says. Mags slowly lifts her head to see Bashir’s blurry form crouched in front of her. Theo stands behind him.

Her lips tremble and tears slide down her face again. A wail escapes her, and she tries to muffle it, burying her face in her hands. The two other doctors quickly swap places so that Theo is crouched in front of her now, not that she notices. Theo sits beside her, picking her up and cradling her like a young child. Unconsciously, her hands grip onto his shirt. Theo’s strong heartbeat and strong embrace are enough to restart the waterworks.

Bashir crouches in front of Mags, placing a hand on her face and stroking her wet cheeks with the pad of his thumb. Lenny’s hubcap, which had fallen when Theo picked her up, is securely clutched in Bashir’s other hand.

Surrounded by the love of her two closest friends, Mags allows herself to fall apart. Theo’s shirt quickly becomes soaked by her tears. He says nothing, just holds her tightly. He doesn’t try to pull her out of the darkness but acts as an anchor; he will ground her if she loses herself. Bashir does the same. Not a word is spoken, but somehow, they understand her, and she understands them.

Finally, her tears slow and eventually stop. Mags relaxes into Theo’s chest, but freezes when her cold, wet blouse irritates her skin. With trembling hands, she fumbles to unbutton the soaked blouse, beyond grateful that she is wearing an undershirt. Upon noticing this, Bashir slips out of his scrub top, revealing a grey long-sleeved shirt. He places a hand on hers, stilling them, and gently unbuttons the rest of the buttons, helping her out of the shirt. With Theo’s help, Bashir manages to coax the scrub top over Mags’s limp form; at this point, Mags is too drained to do anything.

Theo hands her over to the taller man, who effortlessly stands despite having a grown woman in his arms. Theo picks up Lenny’s hubcap and Mags’s go-bag, slinging it over his shoulder. A thought enters Mags’s head suddenly, and she struggles to form words.

“I… forgot to see Dr. Bishop,” she gets out. “I need to see him.”

Bashir shakes his head. “Not today. We’ve already spoken to him.”

Mags protests, but she can see their point. She’s actively fighting to keep her eyes open and she’s still reeling from losing Lenny. She doesn’t know where her friends are taking her, but she relaxes in Bashir’s arms and decides to trust them.

After a few minutes of walking, the sounds and smells of York Memorial waft up to her. Mags is placed on a hard surface. Blearily opening her eyes, she sees Bashir putting on his day clothes. Theo is nowhere to be seen. Mags’s eyes flutter closed, and she falls into a trance where she is half-asleep but still (vaguely) aware of her surroundings.

The door opens. Footsteps approach before someone sits by her head and tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. Crisp peppermint and the ever-present smell of antiseptic tells her that it is Dr. Bishop who is currently stroking her hair. He leans down and kisses her brow, his beard ticking her skin.

Dr. Bishop exchanges a few words with Bashir and leaves. She doesn’t have time to mourn his warmth before she is picked up again. Bashir speaks to Theo, his voice rumbling in his chest. Finally, Mags drifts off to sleep, Theo’s hand running through her hair and Bashir’s soothing voice against her ear.

Theo knows the exact moment that Mags falls asleep. Her head, which had been pressed against Bashir’s chest, lolls. Bashir is quick to adjust her in his arms, so her head will not fall. Her face smooths out, her stress and grief melting away to reveal a peaceful smile. Theo’s heart clenches. He lifts his watery eyes to meet Bashir’s equally watery eyes. They laugh softly at themselves. Upon reaching his car, Theo opens the back-passenger door for his friends before walking around to the driver’s seat.

His heart melts when he peeks in the rear-view mirror. Before Bash can catch him, Theo whips out his phone and sneakily snaps a photo of his two friends: Mags in the middle seat with her seatbelt already buckled, and Bashir clumsily buckling his own with his right hand, his left snaked around Mags’s waist to support her.

Theo pulls out of the parking area and drives to the house that he is currently sharing with Amira and Bashir. Halfway there, he hits a large pothole, jostling the entire car. His eyes fly to the mirror. Mags’s head falls to Bashir’s shoulder, but she doesn’t wake. Bashir simply smiles and shifts closer, his hand reaching up to cradle her head, preventing it from moving.

Arriving at the house, Theo cuts the gas and makes his way to the back of the car. He reaches in on the driver’s side and pulls Mags out, chuckling when Bashir vigorously shakes his arm to wake it up.

Amira is doing her homework at the table when Bashir and Theo walk in, the former carrying a hubcap and an extra go-bag, and the latter cradling an unfamiliar woman to his chest. She approaches them silently and takes the hubcap from Bashir. “Who’s this?” she asks quietly.

“This is Mags,” Bashir answers. “She works with us, and she’s had a hard day.”

Amira’s face softens in sympathy. “I’ll wake you up at 4:00 then?” She knows the drill for when they return from night shifts.

“Yes, please,” Theo says, ruffling her hair. Amira playfully swats his hand away, then goes back to her homework.

Theo makes his way to his bedroom, gesturing for Bashir to follow. Once inside, Bashir draws the covers and Theo places the slumbering woman down on the bed. But when he tries to rise, Mags whimpers and weakly clutches his shirt. Kissing her forehead, he crawls in next to her and pulls her close.

“Well? Get in bed,” he orders Bashir, who jumps a bit. With only a moment of hesitation, Bashir crawls in on Mags’s other side and wraps his long arms around both her and Theo protectively.

That’s how Amira finds them an hour later, having come to wake them up. She creeps out and grabs her brother’s and Theo’s phones. She snaps a picture on both of them, making sure to send one to herself. She doesn’t have the heart to wake them, so she pads to the kitchen and starts some Kraft Dinner. After putting the noodles on the stove, an evil grin stretches across her face and she slowly pulls a marker out of her pocket.

The heavenly aroma of Kraft Dinner is what awakens Mags. She slowly opens her eyes, confused when blue is all she can see. Strong arms are around her and she snuggles into someone’s embrace. The person holding her shifts and a cross necklace glints in the sunlight. Oh. So the person holding her is Theo, and Bashir is behind her, holding them both. Tears roll down her face and into her hair, but Mags is smiling too much to care.

A scraping noise startles her. _Who else lives here?_ She wonders, before remembering that Bashir has a sister. Cutlery chinks against a plate before quiet footsteps approach. A young girl, maybe 12, appears in the doorway, her dark eyes meeting Mags’s blue ones.

The girl – _what’s her name again? –_ smiles. Mags can definitely see the relation now; the curve of the girl’s smile is identical to that of her brother. Bashir’s sister shakes Theo, gently at first, but increasingly aggressive. He finally rouses with an eloquent, “Wha-?”

The girl directs her smile at him. “I made supper,” she replies. Theo sleepily looks around and sees that Mags is awake.

“Oh! Mags, this is Amira,” he introduces. Amira holds out her hand; Mags reaches up to shake it but freezes when Bashir mumbles out a garbled, “Amira?”

Amira and Mags lock eyes and giggle as Bashir sits up, hair a mess atop his head. He yawns and wipes his eyes. “ _Habibti_ , what time is it?” Amira turns on her phone to show him. Bashir’s eyes narrow and his hands fly to his face. “Amira!” he cries.

Mags, now fully awake, turns over and promptly bursts into laughter. The left side of Bashir’s face has a handlebar and goatee scribbled on it in black ink. Peering into Amira’s phone, Mags notices that the left half of her own face has a Super Mario mustache. Theo’s right half has a carefully styled Balbo.

“It’s a-me, Mario!” Mags whoops. It’s the only Mario quote she can think of. Amira dissolves into giggles and shrieks in laughter when Mags pulls her into a bear hug. Mags sits up. “Might as well do the other half,” she says, offering the other half of her face.

Amira grins widely, eyes sparkling, and colours in the other side of Mags’s face. Theo sighs, like he’s walking the plank, and allows Amira to colour his face as well.

Everyone stares at Bashir. “No way,” Bashir starts, but Amira and Mags tackle him. Theo pins his arms, Mags holds his head, and Amira quickly moves in.

“Agh! Stop! Dr. Bishop’s going to kill me!” he yelps, yet he doesn’t put up much of a fight.

“Dr. Bishop is going to kill all of us,” Mags laughs. Once Amira finishes with her brother, Mags snatches the marker from her hand. Now Bashir holds her arms, Theo holds her head, and Mags approaches, wielding the marker like a scalpel. Before Amira can wiggle free, Mags doodles the Winnfield upon her face. All four of them are laughing without a care in the world. They end up taking a selfie.

Apparently, the marker was a Sharpie. Theo’s roar of “Amira!!” can be faintly heard by the staff at York Memorial.

Even after hours of scrubbing their faces, the ink stands out starkly against their skin. They eat the (now cold) Kraft Dinner and head their separate ways: Amira to her room and the three doctors to their next shift.

The three doctors walk in confidently, proudly presenting their facial hair, earning a rare belly laugh from June. Lou demands to know who their barber is. Claire has to sit down because she’s laughing too hard.

Dr. Bishop is less than pleased. He ushers the three of them into his office and just stares at them for over a minute. Then he explodes, threatening to fire them and revoke their medical licences. Dr. Bishop will not let them cover their faces. After kicking them out, he invites Claire in and they laugh until tears roll down their faces.

Hours later, they’re on break, hanging out with Claire, when her phone rings. She talks on it for a few minutes, then chokes on a laugh. Claire beckons the three doctors over and puts her phone on speaker, motioning for them to be quiet. “What did you say, Jed?”

Dr Bishop clears his throat. “I _said,_ maybe I should grow a mustache.” 

**Author's Note:**

> hc_for_me, I'm so glad I'm not alone writing Transplant fics. Here's a gift to show my gratitude for you:)


End file.
